


Tending the Wolf

by TurtleTotem



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s01e08 Much More, Kissing, M/M, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:49:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22807378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TurtleTotem/pseuds/TurtleTotem
Summary: What if, in the last episode, Geralt had woke to find Jaskier tending him instead of his mother? (I don't know how he got there either. It doesn't matter.)Ontumblras well.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 12
Kudos: 235





	Tending the Wolf

"Jaskier?" Geralt said, just before dawn, and his voice finally sounded like his voice again, neither a guttural animal sound of pain nor a confused babbling, slurred and unsettlingly childlike.

Jaskier darted to his side, kneeling by to the makeshift pallet and nearly spilling the mug of broth. "Geralt?"

Geralt's eyes were still wild, but they were focusing now—on Jaskier's face, which he reached for with a shaky hand, fingers brushing his cheek. "Jaskier…"

"Oh, _now_ I'm Jaskier? You've called me every other name you knew, for the past two days." Jaskier didn't know why he was being so waspish. He pressed the mug of broth against Geralt's mouth, not letting up until he took a swallow. "You've called for Renfri, Yennefer, Cirilla—whoever that is, your mother, even old Borch. But not me—never once thought of me."

Geralt was still staring intently at his face. He had his whole hand against Jaskier's cheek now, huge hot palm half covering his mouth.

"I never thought I'd see you again," Geralt said.

"But you thought you'd see Renfri again?"

"I see Renfri all the time," Geralt muttered, almost inaudible, and Jaskier had no idea how to react. It had taken him years to drag the tale of Renfri and Blaviken out of Geralt, but he knew full well now that Renfri had been dead more years than Jaskier had been alive.

"Well, sorry, it's only me," Jaskier said at last.

Geralt only said his name again, as if unable to believe he was real. He was stroking Jaskier's hair back from his temple now—right where the tiniest bit of gray was coming in, hopefully Geralt hadn't noticed that—and he still wasn't himself, Jaskier knew, or he would never be… like this. Looking at Jaskier so unguardedly, touching him so tenderly. It almost felt like taking advantage, to let Geralt act like this, but Jaskier couldn't have pulled away for the world.

"You still owe me an apology," he managed to say, trying to remind himself that he was angry at this stupid brute.

"For what?" Geralt looked genuinely confused. "Everything's…" He gestured at his head, which probably was still swimming with fever.

Jaskier sighed. "I'll remind you in great detail later. Might write a song about it, all the ways you've wronged me. Drink this." He held the mug up to Geralt's lips.

Geralt pushed it aside with one hand, and used the other—the one in Jaskier's hair—to pull him forward and kiss him.

They'd kissed before, of course, and more than kissed, and it was all grand fun. That was what Jaskier told himself, every time Geralt effed off out of his life for another few years with barely a goodbye. It was just some fun between friends.

That wasn't what this was. Jaskier couldn't remember ever being kissed like this before in his life—so gentle and soft, as if he were breakable, as if he were someone to be courted and made love to. Gods, was this what it felt like? Was this why women went so foolish over men who were sweet to them, even men like Jaskier who didn't mean a thing by it? Now he understood.

The kiss grew slowly more heated, rougher, and that was good too, that was _so good,_ and Geralt was making that noise halfway between a purr and a growl that Jaskier loved. But he was also struggling for breath and didn't seem to realize it, his heartbeat against Jaskier's palm a good deal faster and more fluttery than he liked. With a herculean effort, Jaskier pulled away, pressing his face against Geralt's forehead instead.

"Later," he said breathlessly. "You're really not up to this yet, Geralt."

"Hm."

"Drink your broth. You need something warm in you." He bit his tongue on the innuendo that tried to trip off of it, and watched gimlet-eyed as Geralt drained the mug. His eyes had gone vague again, sleepy and unfocused. "Go back to sleep, Geralt," Jaskier said, brushing silver-white hair out of his face.

"I should stay awake."

"No, you should rest. It's all right. I'll look after you."

"Don't need you to," Geralt growled. "'M fine."

"Yes, darling, I know."

He was asleep by the time Jaskier got the mug out of his hand.


End file.
